From Everlasting to Everlasting

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From Everlasting to Everlasting

Sophie Freeman

"Before the mountains were brought forth,

Or ever Thou hadst formed the earth and the world,

Even from everlasting to everlasting,

Thou art God. . . ."

Psalm 90

Contents

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 1

Ellen stirred with the full realization that it was morning. She pulled the blanket up over her shoulder and tried to snuggle down into the warm coziness of her mattress, but there was only the hardness of wooden planks beneath. She opened her eyes sleepily. The blanket was the same patchwork quilt she had grown up with but instead of the familiar four-poster bed, she seemed to be far lower. Beneath her was only another thin blanket. Raising her eyes, she saw the thin stretched canvas where the walls and roof should have been.

She pulled the blanket up close to her chin and shivered slightly as she suddenly remembered. They had already traveled a whole day and camped an entire night. Now her home was gone forever. The one beautiful solid place which had meant safety for five long years. But even then she must have known that it would not last forever. Somewhere, sometime, there had always been the warning that they would be on the go again. And now they were traveling, far off to a land none of them had ever seen. Others had gone there and word had come back that it was the chosen land, but surely it was only another place in the wilderness, another frontier to conquer through pain and misery and even death.

Ellen’s eyes traveled further. She saw her cousin’s rough woolen blanket lying close to hers but Randy had already left. His things were scattered about. The beautiful quilt her Aunt Sarah had made was further over, precisely folded in quarters as if this were another home to be kept neat and clean. Still further over stood the family trunk, an old chest which she had seen packed so many times before that it was almost her earliest memory. Ellen sighed as she saw it. As long as it was there, she knew that her family must be close by.

She pulled the blanket off and, in the dim light which poured in from the open space in the canvas, put on her green dress and shoes and coat and combed her long brown hair. Then she carefully made her way to the mouth of the wagon and looked out.

The light was so dim that the people looked like gray shadows as they moved back and forth, quietly and efficiently. The men fed the horses and cattle while the women sat around small campfires and cooked breakfast. Ellen’s nose caught the scent of pancakes and she turned to follow it.

C’mon down, her cousin Randolph called from below.

Ellen smiled as she saw him standing at the head of the wagon where the horses were usually hitched. Going to drive this one yourself? she asked mischievously.

The boy grinned. Sure. And by the time we get out to Utah, you’ll probably be helping me.

The woman in the calico dress and shawl stirred the pot over the fire. Good morning, Lennie, she said in her warm voice. There’s some water we saved for you in that bucket.

Ellen nodded as she noticed the water in the bottom of the wooden bucket. Shivering slightly as she splashed it over her face and arms, she scrubbed until her skin tingled. She dried herself quickly then sat down on the log next to her aunt.

Just in time for breakfast, her aunt said, handing a bowl of hot oatmeal to Ellen and another bowl to Randy. The three of them ate silently, each too full of thought to even try to speak. Just then Ellen realized that the others had gotten up at the first break of dawn but had let her sleep. As far back as she could remember, the others had given her just a little bit more than they had themselves. She had always been the baby.

Good morning, Mrs. McLaughlin, her aunt suddenly said. Ellen looked up quickly and saw the woman standing near her.

I just thought I’d bring over four eggs, this being our first morning out and all, the woman said, offering the eggs to Sarah, who smiled back at her as if she had just been offered a golden tower.

Gosh, but that’s nice of her, Ellen said as Aunt Sarah gave each one a boiled egg. Trust Mrs. McLaughlin to carry live chickens with her.

We’ve got some wonderful neighbors, the low voice mumbled.

Ellen watched Zachary’s tall frame come over and sit down in front of the fire. He took his oatmeal and the egg and started to eat, neatly and efficiently.

When he had finished, Sarah gave him a cup of hot water with sugar and mint leaves while both Ellen and Randy got milk. Are we about ready to leave? she asked.

Zachary nodded. Everything’s all packed and ready. As soon as we all get our personal belongings together, we’ll be off.

Randy put his cup down. Are we going to cover a lot of territory today, Pop?

The man nodded again. Yes, son, we will. There’s a lot of land to cover and we’ll have to do it sooner or later.

But Ellen’s hazel eyes were worried. She moved closer to the man. Uncle Zack, are we going to make this trip all right?

He paused for a moment and then he looked straight down at her. His eyes were sure and steady. Of course, we will, Len. We’ll get there.

And then Ellen knew that they would.

The wagons moved on slowly along the wide road which had been built by the preceding migrations. As Ellen stood up in the wagon and watched the road, it seemed to converge into a small arrow which pointed straight to the west. She sat down at the mouth of the wagon close to Randy, who was driving the team. He sat bold and upright as a king, trying to get the easy, swaying motion in his shoulders just as his father did. But to his young body it didn’t come naturally, and soon he slumped back on the seat and looked like another young boy who must do a man’s work.

The road led through rich prairies of vivid green. The promise of early spring was in the air, fresh and fragrant. It was in the light blue sky and the soft downy clouds which drifted across the horizon and on the road ahead. The sun streamed through, warming the passengers with its bright golden rays. The horses’ muscles rippled delicately as they felt the warmth, and the cattle, which obediently followed the wagons, also nodded their heads and were glad. Every so often the road darkened as it wound its way through green woods in which the red buds of the maple were beginning to blossom. It was as if a shadow fell on them, and each wagon followed closely on the heels of the other. And suddenly the bright sunshine would stream into the wagons, the horses would neigh quietly and people sigh. They passed numerous streams, fresh and rippling.

The first wagon stopped and all those behind slowly came to a sudden halt. The travelers had reached their first river. Randy sat quietly with the reins in his hands, waiting for further instructions. The Elders rode out to the river and talked quietly with each other. Ezekiel, Jonathan, and Gregory stayed at the river bank and the first wagon started across confidently.

Zachary came riding back on his coal-black stallion. He tied the horse to the side of the wagon and then he climbed up on the wheel. Move over, Randy, I’m going to drive it across this time.

Ellen moved back into the wagon beside Aunt Sarah while Randy made room for his father. Zachary took the reins with a practiced hand, not too tight and not too slack. It was the way he did everything—free and easy—and right. Now watch carefully, son, he said, pointing ahead of his team of horses, So you’ll know how to do it next time.

Randy watched his father guide the horses. They shivered when their hooves touched the cold wet water. Their muscles rippled as Zachary urged them to step further into the river. They were about to protest for a moment but Zachary’s skillful hands urged them onward behind the other wagons.

Ellen sat behind and peeked over her uncle’s shoulder.

Will the horses have to swim? she wanted to know.

He shook his head slowly. No, we figure this river isn’t very deep now. They’ll get a good wetting, but no swimming this time.

Suddenly a fine needle-like spray fell across them. Zachary automatically put his arm out to ward it off. Ellen shivered at its coldness. The horses were shaking their wet hides like puppies who have just had their first bath.

Suddenly Aunt Sarah laughed. I guess we’re the ones who’re getting that wetting, she chuckled as the wagon lurched violently, flew up, and reached level land again. They all began to laugh. One river was already behind them.

The wagons rolled slowly on along the river bank. To the left, the prairie was fresh and green, stretching out endlessly. The ground now rose and lowered in low undulating curves, like a silent ocean whose waves rose and fell rhythmically. Far off on the horizon there was a long line of green trees whose leaves stood up in clusters and cut the blue sky from the land with a clear sharp line.

The grass grew tall close to the river and the horses sniffed delicately at its fresh clean fragrance. They bent down and wrinkled their noses as it tickled. The cattle would have stopped to graze but there was no time for that now and they were urged onward. The river which had rolled so lazily before now lost its sluggishness and rippled swiftly as they followed it upstream. It rushed over the rocks on its sandy gravel and gurgled merrily and swiftly along its course.

At last the time came to rest. They stopped to make camp along the river’s edge, where the water was clean and fresh and the feed plentiful for the cattle. The wagons formed a semicircle, since this had been arranged as the best defense in case of attack. In the blazing noon sun, each person began to do the task allotted to him.

Some of the men took the animals to graze. Matthew Parker went hunting with Elders to bring back meat for the camp. Each one carried his heavy rifle on his shoulder and rode his horse with the determination of a man who is doing his given duty. The women watched their men go off and then wistfully returned to their wagons. Aunt Sarah came out with a large bundle and Ellen followed carrying a smaller one. They met the other women at the river bank and there they washed their clothes in the cold, clear water, scrubbing the shirts and the dresses and towels on washboards.

Good thing we Mormons are so clean, Aunt Sarah said.

Ellen giggled. I think that’s the reason you got converted to the religion.

The women washed and wrung and hung up the clothes on long improvised clothes lines to dry in the heat of the sun. And then, when the work was finished, they visited with each other and heard the latest news and returned to their wagons again, for it was time to prepare dinner.

Ellen sat down wearily and leaned against the side of the wagon. Somewhere outside her aunt was preparing a stew for dinner. Suddenly someone shook her shoulder.

Lennie. Wake up, girl!

She looked up suddenly and saw the familiar figure of her aunt. What’s the matter? What happened?

Her aunt looked reassuring but there was worry in her deep brown eyes. Mrs. Parker’s not feeling so well, she said quietly. Could be her baby’s coming now.

Ellen’s eyes opened. Now? What’ll she do?

Her aunt almost smiled. We’ll do everything we can. I’m going to go see her now. You watch the stew and stir it. It’d better be good because we’ve invited Jonathan for dinner.

Ellen frowned. What did you go and do that for?

Well, because he’s one of the Elders. Besides, he’s one of your uncle’s closest friends. She shook her head impatiently. Anyway this is no time to talk. I’ll be back soon. You tell them where I am if they return first.

Ellen walked over to the pot which was hanging over the open fire. She peeked inside and saw the cubed pieces of meat floating in gravy. It didn’t look or smell so very appetizing yet, the girl thought, but her aunt was famous for her cooking. By the time the stew was ready it would be fit for a king.

For a king, she repeated to herself as she thought of the tall Elder, Jonathan. She stirred the stew carefully. Stew for Jonathan, she thought again distastefully. There had never been a time before Jonathan, for he seemed to go back to her earliest recollections. When she had lived in her first home, Jonathan had come to visit it. And when her parents had died of the fever and she had been left alone with her uncle and aunt, Jonathan had come to comfort them.

She thought of the tall, straight Elder, the piercing blue eyes, the cocksureness that always identified him, and wondered why her uncle had chosen this man as his friend.

Ellen stirred the contents of the pot angrily. Stew, stew for Jonathan, she thought to herself as she walked further away from the heat of the fire, which was having strong competition from the hot sun overhead. The ground was hard beneath her feet, packed when the rains had failed to come. She walked till she came to the edge of the woods. The leaves were just beginning to come out. They were still tiny and a beautiful sight, fresh green. The trees were tall and sturdy, their brown bark strong and tough, and yet there was the promise of protection to the tiny leaves and flowers and all life in the forest. The leaves rustled slightly as the cool breeze brushed by, softly shaking them into activity. The winter was over. Spring had finally arrived.

A fawn appeared suddenly where only a few trees had been before. It stood very, very still and watched Ellen with its warm brown eyes. They were soft as velvet and there was curiosity in them, as if they wanted to know what the girl was doing in this place. Ellen could almost feel its warm smoothness beneath her fingertips. She reached out to put her arm around the deer’s head, to cuddle the cool brown muzzle. The fawn’s ears pricked up. Its head turned quickly to one side as all of its senses became alert. A slow shiver went through it, from its beautiful head on through the shoulders and down its long slim legs. And suddenly it vanished.

Ellen stood perfectly still feeling warmth and filled with the same tranquility surrounding her. It was peace.

The black horse ran snorting through the thicket—eager, alert, waiting. Zachary rode with the reins in one hand and the rifle in the other. All of his senses were alert. Suddenly his eyes fell on Ellen and they riveted.

What are you doing here? he demanded.

She stared at him. I. . . I came over and saw the deer.

The others came through the thicket then. Gregory, Ezekiel, Jonathan and Matthew, the best hunter in the camp.

Where’s the deer? Gregory wanted to know.

Ellen held her breath. Oh, no, no. It’s. . . it’s just a little deer. A fawn. It’s so little, she began. Jonathan and Zachary exchanged glances.

Jonathan spoke first. Let it go. We’ve got enough, he decided. And then he cast a long, straight look at the girl. We don’t pick on half-grown things.

Ellen watched the hunters ride off towards camp, their rifles lowered now, their senses not quite as alert. Their work was over and they too would rest by the campfires. The horses were tired, too; their gait was less sure. There was an eagerness for home and food and rest. As the men rode off, Ellen saw the red meat fastened to the backs of their saddles. It was food for the whole camp, she knew, and without it they would starve. And yet, as she looked at its